


Twisted Lies

by A_Voice_Lost_In_The_Wind



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Human, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Murder, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Relationship, Suicide Attempt, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 21:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18199505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Voice_Lost_In_The_Wind/pseuds/A_Voice_Lost_In_The_Wind
Summary: Mirage knew his place in the Towers. In fact he was painfully aware of it. Painfully aware of how he was viewed as the second born. He would never lay claim to the throne and so as his father saw fit, marrying off the male was easier than trying to find somewhere in their rank to place him. It wasn’t that Mirage was stupid or incapable of using them, it was that his father didn’t recognize the young adult’s gifts. His father would be able to make more money and raise their nobility stance by marrying the prince off.





	Twisted Lies

Mirage knew his place in the Towers. In fact he was painfully aware of it. Painfully aware of how he was viewed as the second born. He would never lay claim to the throne and so as his father saw fit, marrying off the male was easier than trying to find somewhere in their rank to place him. It wasn’t that Mirage was stupid or incapable of using them, it was that his father didn’t recognize the young adult’s gifts. His father would be able to make more money and raise their nobility stance by marrying the prince off.

Mirage wouldn’t have minded the arranged marriage except for the fact of who it was. A prince from the city of Kaon, Motormaster and the nasty name fit the filthy mech perfectly. Instead of having a marriage like his brother Seasong’s to the very loving and very attentive SandDust, Mirage had learned early into the relationship that his fiance would control everything. He had already made that perfectly clear by demanding Mirage to change his appearance for the wedding. 

Mirage was a looker and he took pride in that. His blue hair fell slightly into his gray-blue eyes. He had high cheekbones that seemed to accent his dimples just perfectly when he smiled. He fell slightly shorter than the rest of his family. Making it out at the solid height of 5’10” and with a thinner frame. 

His hands came to wipe away the slight dirt from the garden from his cheeks as he leaned back on his knees, running a hand through his hair and brushing it back from his face. Primus, everything about this was taking its toll on him. He slowly stood as he sighed softly, “Stupid arranged marriage. Stupid Motormaster. Stupid rules.”

He would never understand why on this forsaken planet people would want to be towerling. It was all politics. A game. Using their children to get them ahead in the long time race. A race to gain popularity and in the long run for what? They all returned to Cybertron’s ground eventually. This was temporary. Sure they lived long lives but in the end, death came for them all and it did not favor the rich over the poor. 

If Mirage had his choice it would be very simple, he would walk away from his nobility but it was not possible in this moment of time. Not only did he not have anywhere to go but if Motormaster went looking for him and found him, Mirage was as good as dead and no one would step in to help him.

Mirage had witnessed that first hand. The dominants in a relationship calling it “discipline”, when the awful truth was it was nothing but overrated abuse. He had seen submissive partners begging for mercy after running and the dominant instead beating them to the point of no return. Not even medics stepped in, as though the submissive deserved to lay in the street and die.

The prince had not understood it as a child and surely did not understand it now, but he did know that was not how he wanted to go. He wanted to go peacefully and happily… Mainly he wanted to go on his terms and Motormaster had made it clear what happened if Mirage said no.

The pale fingers trembled a bit as he traced out the scar on his left wrist. At first glance it looked just like any childhood mark but if one studied it for more than a second, they would see how much it resembled a bite mark. The skin was still inflamed and more than that, it was a reminder to keep his mouth closed. 

As much as Mirage hated it, it was an effective lesson. Immediately after drawing blood, Motormaster apologized, kissed the skin, cleaned it, wiped away the Praxian prince’s tears, issued a stern warning and left the prince in the middle of the abandoned hallway. Combining compassion and hate, somehow flawlessly and leaving Mirage confused, scared, and angry. However the blue haired prince kept his mouth shut in formal meetings. At least while Motormaster was there.

He knew the city spoke, spoke of him finally learning a submissive’s place but that was hardly it. Getting beat was not worth the battle most of the time. The only thing he refused to give in on was moving to Kaon. That was like walking into the gladiator pits with a book to fight against knives. It wasn’t smart and it was hardly something he was going to walk into willingly. 

He moved down the hallways, an internal shudder escaping when he heard his forced lover’s voice calling for him. It took everything within himself to keep his tone calm as he turned to address the other male, “Yes, Motormaster?”

“Watch your tone.” The larger male answers, raven black hair spiked up in the front, showing off his dark green eyes, a high contrast to the red lips that were accented by the male’s stereotypical smirk, “ I was hoping you would accompany me to the dinner tonight.” It was hardly a request but Mirage didn’t care. 

“I would but unfortunately my night already has plans. I have a friend coming in from out of town and we have tickets to the local aerial show. Far too late to reschedule.” The lecture he would surely get from his father was beyond worth it.

“I don’t believe I was asking you, Mirage.”

“And I believe I was telling you that my night is occupied and if you wanted to make plans with me, beside dinner, go about it the proper way. You can ask my chaperone to escort us out of the castle. Otherwise I do not have to give you any of my attention.”

The gasp that left the blue haired prince when he hit the wall was hardly new to the abandoned hallway, “You would do well to remember your place, Mirage.”

“Go suck a spike, Motormaster. You do not own me!” He hissed and glared at the male as he straightened his clothes, blue hair falling into his face. He barely recovered when the slap sent him spiraling right back into the wall, a startled yelp escaping as his hand came to soothe the burning flesh, ignoring the slight blood on his chin that was dribbling down from his busted lip, “Why are you so cruel? Do you get something out of it? Just tell me!”

“I am the way I am because, little prince, I do own you and no one, not even your own soldiers will come to your rescue. It is fine time you learn your place and who owns you.” 

Mirage straightened at those words and stepped back, intent on breaking for it, “Get off of me! Get off! Stop it!” He screamed as arms wrapped around his torso, thrashing in the much too tight grip as Motormaster dragged him back towards one of the many storage rooms, Mirage was becoming far too familiar with, “No! Get off of me! You monster! Stop!” He screamed and thrashed against the large form, before recognizing the door opening and finding himself on the floor.

The lock clicking shut was like a nail in his coffin as he stared up at Motormaster, “Do you understand Mirage if you were to obey me I would be more than willing to give you the world?”

It was amazing how fast words turned to kicks, punches and unanswered screams. The raven haired male determined to break Mirage’s spirit. Aiming the kicks into his stomach, taking away the screams and turning them into desperate gasps. Taking care to lay punches on one area until he was almost breaking whatever poor bone resided there. 

Mirage had long past given up on trying to fight back or crawl away. He covered his head letting out a blood curdling shriek at a kick to the already bruised and bloodied left ankle, “I-I’m sorry! Please!”

Like a switch had been flipped, the beating stopped, Motormaster stepping away from the battered, crying form, “I certainly hope you have learned, Mirage. I will inform your father, you are sick and cannot attend dinner…. Oh Mirage.. You better not leave this castle tonight. Aerial performance and friend or not.”

Mirage didn’t move, even as the door opened and slammed shut. Making sure that his abuser was gone before he set up. Hands wiping away the tears frantically, before grabbing at his comlink, hand hesitating as he went to dial out Ratchet’s number. He slowly dialed the familiar number, “Ratchet.. I need medical assistance. Sub level 3, storage room on the left side of the first hallway.” Holding his tone steady before clicking off and assessing his injuries.

Motormaster tried not to mark up Mirage’s face, that raised questions to the select few who actually cared. The easiest, the bruising on his rib and stomach. Arm’s slightly scraped up, and bruised, shoulder throbbing from taking a few stomps to it. The worst was by far his left ankle. It looked raw, definitely not broken but sprained for sure, nothing Ratchet wouldn’t be able to fix.

Instinctively flinching at the door opening, his eyes met Ratchet’s soft brown eyes, “Raj… Let me see.”

“It’s just my ankle.”

“Just the rest of you too. Now what happened this time?”

“Other than me telling him to go suck a spike?”

The snort caused Mirage to gain a small smile that quickly faded to a grimace and hiss of pain as the medic set to cleaning up is ankle and wrapping it, “How very fitting.. Mirage why haven’t you called off the marriage? If this continues… He will kill you. I don’t want one time that com I get to be a code black on you.”

Ratchet, who was like the only true father Mirage had ever had was worried about what the prince worried about himself, “It’s not that simple. Not all of us get paired with mates who are good and kind like you and Hide. Sometimes we gave to do things in order to survive and help our people survive. You know as well as I, ah, that if I call this marriage off my father will cast me out, Motormaster will kill me and the Kaonites promise of war will be upon us. We are not a, ow, warrior breed of people… Everything we love about Praxus will be dead and gone. Is that worth it to you?”

“In order to keep you alive, yes Mirage it is a sacrifice that is not worth it. You know that we would find you a place to stay and insure your safety.”

“I will not risk your lives for my own.”

The two fell into shared silence as Ratchet finished wrapping the ankle, “Stay off of that ankle tonight Raj. Let me help you to your quarters.”

Mirage let himself be helped up and moved up to his room, “I-I’m sorry Ratchet.. I know what you want me to do but I just can’t.”

Ratchet helped Mirage sit on his bed, “I just want you to think of other options for your life.” 

Slowly Mirage nodded and run a hand through his hair, “I’ll think it over.”

“Good… Call me when you wake up tomorrow so I can check that ankle.”

Another nod and the medic was out the door. Mirage leaned up and slowly grabbed a pair of his black boots from by his night stand, sliding them on, tucking his id, some cash and knife into the left boot. Like Unicron was Motormaster actually going to keep Mirage stuck up in bed, one a night like tonight. He carefully shrugged off his top and pants before pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans, a cold shouldered black top, using a cape to cover his form during travel..

At least one good thing came from his slightly feminine frame. He looked quite great and didn’t mind using it for his own advantage. He nodded a bit to his mirror before stepping over to his window. Oh Ratchet would kill him in the morning, as would Ironhide, but for now it was his plan. He carefully pushed open the door and climbed onto the thick branch and shimmied down until he found the ground, heading instantly into town and for a familiar club.

Muses. It was popular and owned by a local Blaster. He pushed open the door pushing the hood down, heading straight for the bar, sitting in the corner. Of course he knew some people recognized who he was but thankfully no one ever pointed it out. He looked up at the bartender setting down a finer whiskey, “I didn’t ord-”

“It’s from the brunette in the corner.”

Mirage looked up through his fringe to the man in question. He was an attractive man. Shaggy brunette hair, soft brown eyes that one would drown in, chiseled jawline. Everything about the man from his smile and laugh to buff appearance was calling out to Mirage. Slowly he nodded his thanks and took a drink of it. It was right up his taste buds alley. Strong with a burn that lasted quite awhile.

The music was pulsing through the blue haired veins and he casted a look back to the male, locking eyes with him for probably the hundredth time in half an hour. Mirage hauled himself to his feet with his typical grace and approached the male and his friends at the table, “Are you going to ask me to dance or just stare at me all night?”

Everyone seemed taken back at the male as he confront the other. The brunette male slowly speaking up, “Yeah.. I mean would you like to dance?”

“I would be honored.” He let the male take his hand and guide him onto the dance floor.

“What’s your name?”

“Raj. You?”

“Hound..” 

If Ironhide was being honest he was debating blowing the prince’s cover but he also hadn’t seen the prince that feisty in months, the slight glow in his eyes and it wasn’t worth not letting the male have his fun. Even if he was the head of his security force, like anything would happen with Ironhide sitting right there. Leading the male to reside elsewhere in the bar and resort to staring at Mirage, from the corner of his eye as Hound had been earlier, “Huh who knew Hound could get the pretty ones?” The war vet was a hard to read male. Salt and peppered hair, hard blue eyes, thin lips that didn’t express happiness super openly. 

Jazz snorted laughter leaning back in his chair, “I mean technically doll face there picked him out.” The male was there without his own lover. Still managing to make effortless look perfect. Dreads hanging down his back, dark skin showed off in a white shirt and light jeans, brown eyes full of amusement.

Sunny shrugged a bit shooting his twin a look as he smiled, “We can give him hell for it later, right Sides?” Sunny and Sides were almost identical. High cheek bones, plump red lips, steely gray eyes. The only difference Sunny’s platinum blonde hair and Side’s dark, almost maroon red hair. 

Sides nodded as he looked out to the dancefloor watching the two, “Duh. Now are you going to dance with me or should I ask Jazz and have both you and Prowl jealous later?”

“I’ll dance with you. Come on brat.” Sunny teased nudging his brother up and into their own corner, most likely to rev Sideswipe up for his own enjoyment.

“And then there were two.” Jazz muttered.

“Prowl working later?” A nod and Ironhide chuckled, “Ratch too. They’ll settle down eventually.”

“Hopefully in time for my biological clock to still be ticking. Did you see the bruises on his wrists?”

Ironhide followed Jazz’s gaze to the floor watching Mirage dance. Of course there was. Motormaster could hardly keep his hands off of Mirage, “Jazz, it isn’t any of our business.”

“Not yet but you watch. My gut says it will be.”

Mirage with great effort, ignoring the throbbing of his ankle continued to match Hound’s movements perfectly, feeling like for the first time in a long time everything was perfect. This was what a normal flirting should be like. Like breathing air for the first time in a long time. He would have been content to stay there for hours, just swaying, grinding, dancing with someone who didn’t want anything more than his time.

Time that he just didn’t have, as the bar clock reminded. 11:59, oh people would be looking for him, “I… I’m terribly sorry. I have to go. Just… Here.” Lining up there comlinks he linked their signals together, “I’ll call you tomorrow!” He said grabbing his cloak from the bar chair and quickly ducking through the door.

Way to go Raj. Find a beautiful male and duck out because of curfew. Those were among the thoughts that filled his mind as he raced for the castle, stuffing the cloak into the bushes, he started the climb up the old tree, and back into his room as he flopped on the bed, tracing out where Hound hand held his hand, a slightly gleeful laugh escaping.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
